


Look How The Stars Shine For Us

by Ellienerd14



Category: Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005), Victoria (TV)
Genre: Bill saves the day, Dig dig dig, F/F, M/M, unburying the gays
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-21
Updated: 2017-10-21
Packaged: 2019-01-20 23:33:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12444366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ellienerd14/pseuds/Ellienerd14
Summary: 'Look at the stars,Look how they shine for you,And everything you do,Yeah, they were all yellow'Drummond is dead and Alfred is heartbroken but the Doctor isn't the only one who can rewrite time…





	Look How The Stars Shine For Us

**Author's Note:**

> Lyrics from 'Yellow' by Coldplay

_**Your skin** _  
_**Oh yeah your skin and bones** _  
_**Turn into something beautiful** _  
_**You know you know I love you so** _  
_**You know I love you so** _

* * *

 It had seemed - for a beautiful, happy second - that everything was going well. Parliament had ended in victory for his party. And he was promised dinner with Alfred. That was the part that made Drummond smile. _Yours_ , the letter he held so dear - both literally and metaphorically - had promised. 

The problem with beautiful moments of optimism was they didn't last. A man - a stranger - drew out a pistol and aimed it at Peel. Drummond didn't think, he just moved. The bullet hit his chest causing an outbreak of pure agony that spread like a poison. In his last, tragic, painful moments he had one thought in his mind: _Alfred_.

And then he saw an angel.

* * *

Heartache has been constant companion to Alfred over the past few days. Eating alone had been almost bearable but learning his beloved was gone, out of reach was heart-shattering. He mourned in the few brief moments he spent alone; he envied Florence who could wear a black veil and cry openly. He had to wear a mask and hide the heartbreak that consumed his every thought. He didn't have the luxury of tears or open grief. 

Alfred excused himself from the dinner, left with no appetite. The Duchess gave him a knowing look that was as close to sympathetic as she was capable of. No one else looked twice as he fled the suffocating noise and atmosphere of the dining hall. Forunatly, the hallways were empty enough that he could run to his rooms without anyone questioning his sudden outbreak of uncomposed sobbing. 

The handle to his room was cold enough it broke Alfred from his grief - it felt like the servants had polished it with ice water. Still, he ignored it. The moment he was be alone, he could finally mourn Drummond the way he deserved, as a lover would. 

Instead, Alfred gave out a startled cry as he entered his room. The only person he wanted to talk to was sat on his bed. 

The ghost of Drummond looked solid - he had always expected spirits to be translucent. 

He closed his eyes, parting for it to be a dream and then he opened them.

The ghost offered him a handkerchief; Alfred took it with shaking fingers. 

* * *

The angel didn't look like the paintings suggested that hung in the galleries Victoria was so found if suggested. She had dark skin and curly hair and lacked the wings or long white dress. In fact she wasn't wearing a dress at all; it was shocking.

Not as shocking as to Drummond as him being brought back to life.

"It worked!" the angel exclaimed. She grinned at him. "Are you oKay?"

"Am I dead?" Drummond asked. "I don't feel dead but-" he trailed off, suddenly clutching at his stomach. Nothing. There should have been blood - he felt it ooze out of him. There should have be a bullet too, lost into his internal organs, bleeding him dry. Yet he was not dead. 

"I suppose this is kinda confusing for you," the angel said. 

"Very much so."

Heaven was empty and green. It looked like a forest - reminding him of his time in Scotland. Which reminded him of Alfred in time, causing only further anguish. 

"I'm Bill." The angel offered him a hand. To his surprise, it was ice cold and soaking. So was the rest of Bill, droplets of water clung to her masses of hair, white jacket and strange boots. "And you are Edward Drummond, right? How does it feel to be alive again?" She looked proud. 

"How can I be alive?"

"It's just atoms." Drummond hadn't noticed a second angel, in similar strange clothing. She had light coloured hair falling out of her bun. She tucked a few strands behind her ear. "We saved you."

"I did not think angels came for people like me and yet I seem to have two guardian angels."

"Everyone deserves an angel. Heather was mine. And I'm yours, in a way," Bill replied. She reached out and took Heather's hand easily, connecting the dots. "Did you not consider angels could be _like you_?" So the angels were in love with each other… another possibility he had not thought possible before. 

Drummond shook his head. "So, if you are angels and I am not dead, where am I?"

"The palace grounds," Heather answered. The trees were familiar, he had ridden through them a few days ago. 

"Pretty right?" Bill asked, still grinning. "Makes me want to become like a freaking queen."

"One day," Heather said, smiling fondly in Bill's direction. "For now, an angel."

Bill looked love-struck. "Thank you."

"Why am I in the palace gardens?" Drummond asked, interrupting their moment. "I was killed outside of parliament. Or did I make that part up?"

"No. You were shot." 

He felt his chest again. Still no blood. "How-"

Heather touched his cheek with her free hand. It was just as icy as Bill's was. "Feel that? It's…magin water."

"Like I said, we saved you," Bill repeated. "It's been three days since your funeral. To them, you're dead." She gestured at the palace. "Expect you're actually alive. Can't you feel your heart beating? That's a sign you're alive, alive, alive!" 

Drummond lifted his hand higher and felt his heart. She was right; it was beating like normal. 

"Have you not figured it out yet?" Heather asked. "Why we took you to the palace?"

Drummond felt for the letter in his pocket. "Lord Alfred?" he asked, almost too scared to hope he could see him again.

"Bingo," Bill said enthusiastically. It made no sense to Drummond but he understood the connotations. He could see Alfred again!

"Come on then," Heather said. "Let's go un-break his heart."

* * *

Alfred couldn't bring himself to use the offered material; spirit watched him wearily as he traced the initials. 

"You cannot be real."

"Do I not look real?" Drummond asked. ( _If_ it was Drummond.) He stood up and took a step towards Alfred who in response took a step backwards. He did not trust his senses. 

"I'm imagining you," he told himself. "My Drummond is gone."

Drummond moved forward again. He used the handkerchief to wipe his tears. The action felt so gentle it had to be real. Which was impossible. 

"Are you a miracle?"

"I think so,"  Drummond replied in a soft, intimate voice. "Guardian angels saved me. And they brought me here, to you."

"To me," he echoed.

"Alfred," Drummond reached for his hand, "would you like to run away with me?"

* * *

It was their only choice. Bill and Heather - his wonderful angels - had promised him they could take him anywhere. He was dead anyway. 

Alfred was still looking at him like he was a ghost. Drummond kissed him, on the back of his hand, to prove otherwise. 

"Where would we run?"

He smiled. "Somewhere with beautiful scenery."

"Anywhere with you then," Alfred replied. "Am I yet to have told you that? You are beautiful."

He leaned forward so their foreheads touched. It felt as natural as breathing. "I do not believe I have been told that before."

"It is the truth."

"You flatter me."

The door opened and they moved away, out of instinct. It was only Bill and Heather however.

"These are my angels."

"Strange looking angels," Alfred muttered. "Yet I so grateful to see them."

"Where to?" Heather asked. 

"We hate to rush you-" Bill interrupted, "but it would be well awkward if someone walked in now. With you being dead and also gay. Mostly the dead thing though."

Alfred studied him for a moment. He overlapped their fingers like he was testing it. Drummond slid their palms together and held on tightly. He wasn't losing Alfred again.

"Tell me what to pack."

"I don't think any of your Victorian stuff is suitable. So just grab a jacket."

"We can take you somewhere where you can get married," Bill added. "Somewhere you can be in love and not hide it."

"You are truly angels," Alfred said. "What have we done to deserve this blessing?"

"Who said you had to do anything?" Bill asked. "You deserve it because everyone should be able to be in love and shout about it. Tell the whole world."

"The whole _universe_."

"So," Bill offered them a hand, "what do you think?"

"Edward," he smiled as Alfred finally used his first name, "do you wish for us to wed?"

He wiped his eyes. Drummond never thought he'd get an opportunity to answer that question from the man he loved. He thought he was doomed to an unhappy marriage with Florence. He never even dreamed of such an option.

"Yes."

Heather smiled at them. "To the future."

"Never look back," Bill added.

Both woman held out their hands, taking them would mean a lifetime of happiness together.

Drummond took his new fiancés first.

**Author's Note:**

> Episode 8 never happened okay. This is your canon now. 
> 
> Let me know what you thought!


End file.
